


Better Than Back Then

by FreshBrains



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Community: rounds_of_kink, Dancing, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, Multi, Public Sex, The Jungle (Teen Wolf), Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:45:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Like high school all over again, baby,” Erica says, low and hot in Jackson's ear, and Isaac grins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Back Then

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Naemi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/gifts).



> For the LJ Rounds of Kink prompt: _Isaac Lahey/Jackson Whittemore/Erica Reyes; dirty talk, wall!sex; What could have happened at the rave - AU._
> 
> The characters are aged up by a few years, so obviously AU.

“Like high school all over again, baby,” Erica says, low and hot in his ear, and Isaac grins. They can hear her clearly over the pumping of the music—one of the many perks of werewolf senses.

“Except nobody is trying to kill us this time,” Jackson says from between them. His hands wander down to Erica’s hips; she’s filled out since he’s seen her last, all soft curves and softer skin. He plays with the waistband of her skirt, letting his thumbs skate across her hipbones.

“We can never know that for sure,” Isaac says dryly, and mirrors Jackson’s movements, pressing his own hands to Jackson’s waist, pulling him close so they’re flush together. Jackson’s tight ass presses against his dick. “This is still Beacon Hills, after all.”

He’s right—it’s still Beacon Hills, and even though they may not be at an underground rave being ravaged by the kanima, they’re under strobe lights and sweat at the _Jungle_. It’s still the town they all got turned in, the town Erica was stolen from for so long, the town Jackson escaped from with his tail between his legs.

The town Isaac kept safe for them until they decided to come back.

Erica twists in Jackson’s grasp so she’s facing him head-on, her cat-like eyes gleaming evilly. Her breasts press against his shirt and he rakes in a deep breath, the feeling of her body making his cock go hard in his jeans. “We could smell you back then.”

Jackson grins, trying to be a cocky shit like he normally is, but he can’t hide the excited flush rising on his neck and face. “Yeah, I kind of figured that out.” He arches his back, just a little, just enough to get an aroused hitch out of Isaac’s breathing. “What did I smell like?”

“Like you wanted to be fucked,” Isaac bites, a growl seeping into his voice. Jackson can’t see him, but he looks at Erica and she’s grinning over his shoulder, her eyes aglow. He can imagine what he looks like between them—he’s still a less-experienced wolf than both Erica and Isaac; he wasn’t trained by a born wolf and he didn’t even have a pack before coming back to Beacon Hills. He stumbled headlong into his new skin while they had time to ease into it and get comfortable.

He knows he must look like prey between them. And he can’t bring himself to mind.

He wraps one arm behind him, circling Isaac’s neck to bring his mouth closer to his throat, and one arm tight around Erica’s trim waist. “And what do I smell like now?” He closes his eyes, getting lost in the combined scent of them, in their tiny bubble of intimacy amidst the loud, packed dance-floor. He grins when Erica presses a glossy kiss to the dimple at the corner of his mouth.

“What do you think?” She purrs, her soft hair brushing against his cheek.

They both press closer at once, like they’re communicating with only their eyes and moving him easily like a doll.  Jackson groans, the heat and grinding pressure against his dick and ass making him shudder in their combined embrace.

“I think,” Isaac says, teeth grazing Jackson’s neck, “we should get out of here.”

Erica grins and nods, taking Jackson’s hand to lead the way to the back exit. She glances back over her shoulder. “Boyd has an exam tomorrow and he’s studying at home. Can we go back to yours?”

Jackson shakes his head, trying to focus with Isaac’s hands still on him as they weave through the crowd. “I’m staying on Lydia’s couch right now.”

Erica pouts and tilts her head, listening and feeling the room around her. She glances around the club and eventually nods towards a dark service hallway half-covered in pallets of shot-glasses and boxes of napkins.

“You’re so dirty,” Isaac says with a smirk, and Erica just laughs, pulling them towards the hallway.

They have Jackson pressed against the wall in seconds, the brick warming against his back, hands and lips roaming over his skin. “You guys are insane,” he breathes, fingers twining through Isaac’s curls. He can barely tell between the two of them, they work so in-sync with one another.

“And you’re a slut,” Erica says. She scrapes her long nails gently against the patch of skin between Jackson’s jeans and tee shirt, fingers sliding beneath the waistband. She pops the button on his jeans right as Isaac sinks to his knees, mouth pressed against Jackson’s stomach.

“Fuck,” Jackson says, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn’t come in his jeans at the sight of Isaac alone. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about them both in high school—Isaac with his big eyes and long fingers, Erica with her cascade of blonde hair and confident stride. And now he’s at their mercy.

“If you can be good,” Erica says just loud enough for Jackson to hear her over the din of the partygoers, “Isaac will blow you right here, and afterwards, you’ll get me off up against the wall.”

“She’s an exhibitionist,” Isaac says from where he’s kneeling.

Jackson can smell the both of them, their heady scents of arousal. Erica’s already soaking for them both.

“You bet I am,” Erica says, and slides her hand into Jackson’s boxer briefs, her warm fingers wrapping around his cock. He inhales sharply at her touch—she knows exactly how to touch him, how to get his nerves to sing and his hips to arch off the wall. Right as Jackson pulls himself together and lets himself get lost in the sensation, Isaac looks up at him, winks, and slides his warm, wet mouth over Jackson’s cock until his lips touch Erica’s hand.

“You are _not_ going to survive the night,” Erica laughs, letting Jackson groan into her neck.

“I’m not even sure if I want to,” Jackson says through gritted teeth, and knows with confidence he’ll allow the two werewolves to thoroughly devour him in the dark service hallway of the _Jungle_.


End file.
